My Cardboard Balcony

The Disappointed Fan by Belinda Roddie The disappointed fan morosely walked back to his apartment after his team lost yet another game to their rivals by a huge score - sixteen to one, in fact (How could they allow so many home runs?). When the fan went inside, he stared at the many posters and pennants that he had collected through the years. He knew he would never turn to another team to feel better. He had to stay devoted to the group of baseball stars who had swept the World Series twice in a decade. He pressed a hand to his jersey. He couldn't shame the team this year. He'd just enjoy the game.

All along the railway, I see the dusty souls of former passengers, railroad workers; the bifocaled, epaulet-stooped conductors with the overly braided caps which hairs now frayed as if they, too, were going gray and bald with age. I stop to retrieve a piece of splintered wood wedged into the train tracks. Strangely enough, it looks polished. Recognizable debris from the fire.